


Les Enfants

by stratumgermanitivum



Series: The Weiss Series [3]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2015-09-10
Packaged: 2018-04-20 00:15:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4766312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stratumgermanitivum/pseuds/stratumgermanitivum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Abigail, Hannibal and Will never had children. That did not mean that Will forgot, or forgave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Les Enfants

**Author's Note:**

> There were a couple of things I wanted to call this, but I had to stick with the French theme. In case you were wondering, two alternate titles were "What Will Never Forgave" and "Five Conversations Will and Hannibal Never Had (And One They Finally Did).
> 
> This is for Cat_Eyes, who asked me to go into more detail about Will's desire for children. This was not easy as I had to draw one thought out into many, so I apologize for any weakness in the story.

1.

The neighbors were quiet. For a while, Will wasn't even aware they _had_ neighbors. It would later come out that, during those first two weeks when Will was dead to the world, they had delivered a casserole which Hannibal had already thanked them for. Will didn't actually meet them until he had started work at the bookshop. He came home one day to find a woman in the hallway, unlocking the door next door. She was pretty, with a soft face that seemed rounder with the way her hijab framed it, and she was holding a baby. The child was... Will wasn't actually very adept with infants ages. Not a year yet, he could tell that much, but old enough to have a mess of dark hair, to sit up in her mother's arms, and to shriek with unabated joy at the sight of him.

"Shh..." Her mother chided, but there was no bite to it and she was still smiling. "You must be Jeffrey." She said, in slightly accented French. She spoke slowly, carefully enunciating every word, as if she was thinking very hard about how she'd been when she first learned the language. Will started, eyes finally drawn from the infant. "Edmund's told us so much about you, but you've been so busy, he says. I'm Kareema, and this is Abida."

Something twinged in Will's chest. AbidaAbbyAbigail- He pushed that thought as far into the back of his mind as it would go. Abida waved a chubby fist at him, struggling in her mother's hold. Kareema laughed and shifted her grip. "Sorry about that. You have a ponytail and glasses. Those are two of her favorite things. Be careful not to get within grabbing distance."

"I wouldn't mind." Will said, and to prove it, he stepped closer, letting Abida reach up and smack his face. He winced slightly. "Hello to you too."

"Edmund said you would like her." Kareema said, with no small amount of pride in her voice. 

"You talk to him often?"

Kareema nodded. "We share a common interest. I was a doctor before the pregnancy, and likely will be again once this one is off to school." 

Will nodded distractedly. Abida had stolen his glasses and was gazing through them. They magnified her dark eyes, and she blinked and wobbled as she tried to look around. 

Kareema smiled and gently took the glasses from her, handing them back. "Would you like to hold her? You could come inside for a bit. I'll make tea."

Will looked up at her, with her brown eyes and welcoming smile, and nodded. "I'd like that."

Abida is sweet. She nuzzles into him and babbles her baby babble, and Will does not miss this, can't miss what he never had. And never will.

2\. They never did get around to moving to a nicer place. They were within walking distance of both Will's job and the train Hannibal took to his, and by the time the subject came up again, Will was far too attached to the neighbors. On nights when Hannibal worked late, he would join Kareema on their neighboring balconies, passing food back and forth like a buffet. Abida loves him, screaming with sheer joy every time he shows up. Her first word was "mama". Her fourteenth word was "Jeffie." Will tried and failed not to get emotional about it.

The party invitation was not entirely unexpected. Kareema had been talking about Abida's first birthday for weeks. Still, Will stood in the kitchen, staring at the little pink card. Opened. Hannibal had already seen it. 

Will stared and the world around him twisted and tilted. Had Abigail had a birthday, with them? He wasn't sure. Walter had, but Molly had largely handled it. Will had just been a bystander. Certainly, he and Hannibal had never given Abigail a party. And never would. Abigail would never grow any older. She would never celebrate another birthday. She would never look at Will, wide eyed and shattered, and he would never, ever put her back together. 

Hannibal found him there, an hour later, and Will put on his fakest smile. They ended up making dinner for Abida's party - chicken, on Will's insistence. He had learned, slowly, to take pleasure in the games they played and the things they made, but there were lines he would not cross. Abida would never be ruined the way Will Graham had ruined everything else.

3\. Will's life is strained. Over a year since coming, his French is nearing fluency, and he loves his job, he really does. But Abida, who is walking and talking and who he babysits more often than not, has him melancholy. She is the highlight of his day, most of the time, and his distraction when Hannibal once again fails to leave the office on time. Will doesn't blame him for that, they need him and he's good at his job. No, there are other things Will blames him for. 

"Jeffie go to books." Abby informed him helpfully from her stroller, as Will headed off to work. Will ruffled her hair and didn't flinch.

"You ever think about having kids?" His boss, Aurelie, asked him later that day as she stocked books. Will had noticed the slight swell of her stomach, and even had she not told him a week ago, Hannibal had smelled it on her when he came to visit Will at work. 

Will shook his head. "Too much work. Hey, did we ever get that encyclopedia in?" Aurelie waved vaguely towards the shelves.

“Edmund can have it half price if he bakes me some zucchini bread.”

“I’m sure that could be arranged.”

“But seriously, Jeffrey. You’re so great with that kid you bring around sometimes. And the kids that come in love you.”

“I can’t do kids.”

“But-”

“I just can’t!” Will was not prone to fits of rage. He was not violent or angry. Not anymore. France had been good for him. But now, he lashed out, sending a pile of books crashing to the ground. He looked at Aurelie and for a second, he thought he saw fear. His rage dissolved in an instant.

“I’m sorry, Aurelie. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you like that.”

Aurelie reached forward and place a hand on his. “You’re so private, Jeffrey. I didn’t know I was pushing a button.”

Will had never talked about it. He and Hannibal ignored the piece of their life that was ruined and charred. But it laid there, at the bottom of the foundation, rotting it from the inside out. It rested in Will’s mouth, in his chest. His heart beat to the tune of A-bi-gail A-bi-gail. Abigail Hobbs was dead in his nightmares and his dreams and every waking moment. It clawed and thrashed and screamed and he just needed to get it out.

“I had a daughter, once.” He spoke in half-truths, the way he could. “Adopted. She was smart, really smart.” Smart enough to lure, to play bait. Smart enough to know when Hannibal held all the cards. “Smart, and beautiful, and I had not even the slightest clue what to do with her.” He choked out a laugh. “She had me wrapped around her little finger. She could have done anything. But then…” And this part, he cannot tell. But he has to. “There was an accident…”

Aurelie made a sympathetic noise and when he looked up he realized she was crying. “I lost my uncle in a car crash. You don’t have to say any more. I’m sorry I pushed.”

But it’s out now, hovering in the air and he can’t take it back, can’t pretend it didn’t happen.

Will didn’t cry. Aurelie gave him the day off anyway.

4\. 

It’s an ordinary day. It comes every year. Will has lived and lived and will live some more through the anniversary. Every year, he will remember the feel of Abigail’s blood slipping through his fingers. Bubbling up underneath his hands, her life so fleeting under his touch.

He called off work sick. He doesn’t always, this day, but his nightmares had been bad. He had thrashed so hard that Hannibal had to pin him, whispering words that usually soothed him but last night had roused his ire. The night had ended with a sedative, and in the morning Will threw it all back up. 

He didn’t even think about eating. He could smell the death in the air as Hannibal made all his favorites and tried to coax him out of bed. Will couldn’t even look at him. Every time he did his scars ached. He could see Hannibal with the knife.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow he would force himself out of bed and back into his life. Because life with Hannibal, even after the loss of Abigail, was better than life alone. Will knew, now, just how crazy he truly was. No one but Hannibal could ever understand him. Tomorrow.

5\. 

Sometimes, Will caught Kareema watching him out of the corner of his eyes. Usually when he was lifting Abida into the air. She was getting so big now, speaking with full sentences and chasing him down when she saw him. No more strollers or diapers. Abby was transitioning from toddlerhood to adolescence, and it all seemed to be happening in the blink of an eye.

He really did adore her. He loved her little baby babble, her mangled French. He loved every piece of her. 

Kareema was a polite woman. She didn’t press personal issues. But she looked at Will like she knew, like she was well aware of how much he wanted it.

The Hannibal Lecter who had been Will’s therapist would have made a wonderful father. He would have given piano and art lessons in their den. He would have cooked dinner every night. Will would have taken the children fishing. He would have done trips to the playground. They would have been bilingual. They would have been brilliant.

The Hannibal Lecter Will ‘married’ was a serial killer and a cannibal. And he had murdered the closest thing to a child they had ever had. 

+1.

"It's not too late to have a child, Will. You're only 40."

Hannibal had the gall to stand tall and proud in the kitchen, like he had any right to say those things. Like he could ever know what Will was feeling. 

"I don't want to talk about this, Hannibal!" Will had been doing the dishes. Now he turned with ice in his voice to glare at Hannibal.

"I see the way you are with the little one. You would make a good father."

The little one, as if Hannibal didn’t know her name by now. Will took the dish in his hands. It was heavy, Hannibal’s treasured china. He hurled it across the room and felt nothing but pleasure when it shattered.

"We had a child! You forced her ear down my throat and slit hers." The knock on the door startled them both. Will hurried around the corner to Abida and thanked whatever twisted God there was that they only spoke English at home.

But out of the mouths of babes came nothing but wisdom. Abida spoke frankly about love, typical for one who didn’t understand it yet. She asked Will if he loved Hannibal, if they were going to talk, and he found he could no more deny her than he could have denied Abigail. 

It wasn’t like Hannibal had hidden the truth from him He had known when they came to France what Hannibal was and what he had done. He could hardly turn on him now for something that had happened years before they had reconciled. 

At home, he kissed Hannibal like his time was running out, and in a way it was. It was time to put Abigail away. There was no more good that could come from his love of her, and he said as much.

“I loved Abigail too, Will. But I was running out-”

“I don’t want to hear it.” Will held a hand up to silence him. “Because if I have to think about it, it will hurt too much. And I don’t want to hurt when I look at you.” He looked up at Hannibal, raw and open. “Let’s just forget about it. Because I love you, and I love our life here, and I don’t want to ruin it. We are so much better together than we ever were apart.”

Hannibal looked uncertain, like he wanted to speak. But he also looked like he knew that Will was walking on a fine ledge. He nodded. “We can always borrow the neighbor.”

Will laughed, and it wasn’t quite as bitter as he thought it would be.


End file.
